Back's Against the Wall
by Imitosis11
Summary: 16 year old Neal Caffrey has unknowingly made some strong enemies with his last con. It is either coincidence or fate that places him in the home of FBI Agent Peter Burke when he needs protection the most.
1. Chapter 1

Neal sat back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, staring at the ceiling.

"It would only be for a few nights...I understand you're not on the list anymore, but with the storm we can't access our current database...I understand...yes...goodnight."

The haggard woman across the desk from him slammed the phone down and sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She reached for the stack of crumpled papers on the desk and flipped through them, not sparing a glance for the teen slumped across from her. Muttering to herself, she stopped on a piece of paper before carefully entering the number into her phone.

"Mrs. Burke? I'm sorry to call you so late..."

Neal tuned out the voice but kept one ear on the conversation, as he always did. Being aware of his surroundings was one of the reasons he was so successful on the streets - until recently, that is. Neal supposed his stroke of bad luck had started when Mozzie left town a few weeks back. Since then it had been one thing after another and now he was exhausted, hungry, and his ribs were smarting with every breath.

Any other day and Neal would be gone from the dreary social worker's office in an instant but he couldn't bring himself to go anywhere. It was freezing outside, with rain coming down in icy sheets. He hadn't eaten in close to two days and didn't have a clue where he could find a warm place to sleep so, for the moment, emergency placement in a foster home seemed to be his best option, and even that wasn't looking good. The storm had knocked out the internet, so his social worker was forced to use their outdated filing system. So far she had been unable to get in contact with any families currently fostering, nonetheless one willing to take in a delinquent teenager.

"Yes, ma'am, I would be happy to talk to your husband...Hello, Mr. Burke...Agent Burke, I'm sorry."

Neal looked up in alarm. _Agent? _Any profession that garnered that title didn't sit well with him.

"Like I was telling your wife, I've got a kid here that we're trying to place. I'm almost out of options; if I can't find a placement I'm going to have to take him to a group home until we can locate his next of kin."

There were so many things wrong with that sentence. First, Neal wouldn't go to a group home. He knew she wasn't talking about just any home, but the home for troubled teens located practically across the city. Neal had been there before and he was not going back. Second, he would rather sleep in a dumpster than be reunited with his 'next of kin.'

"Yes, sir, it will only be for a couple of days. A week at most," she paused to let the man on the other end of the line reply. "I'm required to tell you that we were called when Neal was turned in for pick pocketing. The victim decided not to press charges."

Neal scoffed at that. The only reason the 'victim' wasn't pressing charges was because he had knocked Neal around a little too much to be deemed self defense.

"I assure you, Neal is of no threat to you or your wife."

Closing his eyes, Neal decided he should start thinking about running. It was sounding like he was out of luck for the night, so he would have to go before Miss Martha got him in the car to go to the group home. There was a police escort outside of the office due to his status as a flight risk, but it would be easy enough to slip past him. The problem would be where to go once he was out. His first priority would be food. His stomach felt like it was eating itself, and he slipped one arm around his midsection at the thought. Maybe he could charm a late night waitress into a free burger or something.

"Oh thank you, Agent Burke. I appreciate it so much and I know Neal does too. I'll bring all the appropriate paperwork...we should be there within the hour."

So they were taking him? That was a surprise. Neal couldn't decide if he was grateful or wary at the thought. At this point, all he wanted to do was binge eat and curl up to sleep for the next week. A couple of Advil would be a welcome relief if he could nick them from the medicine cabinet.

Hanging up the phone, Miss Martha started gathering her various papers and files and sticking them into her over the shoulder bag. Rummaging through a file cabinet, she pulled a few more sheets before finally looking up at Neal.

"You're in luck, kid. Ready to go?"

"Sure thing," Neal responded smoothly. He stood and stretched, covering the sound of his rumbling stomach with a huge yawn. "_Agent_ Burke, huh?"

"Yes. Special Agent Burke of the FBI. So no shenanigans, got it?"

"I would never."

Miss Martha snorted and, though she looked exasperated, there was a fondness in her eyes. "Of course you wouldn't, Nick."

Neal had the decency to blush a little. He had tried to pass off as his alter ego Nick Halden on arrest, but he was unfortunately recognized by one of the officers from a previous run in. He really was losing his touch. They exited the building together, Neal with a backpack slung casually over one shoulder. He hid a shiver and stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt.

oOo

Elizabeth and Peter Burke were curled up together on the couch in their bedclothes, fingers intertwined as they watched a movie when the phone rang. It was past ten o'clock and they shared a quizzical look before Elizabeth reached for the wireless phone on the end table. It was unusual for someone to call their house phone so late; if it was work then they would have tried Peter's cell phone first. He quickly dug the electronic from his pocket-no missed calls.

"Elizabeth Burke speaking." She listened for a few moments. Biting her lip nervously, she glanced at Peter before looking away. "Oh dear, I'm afraid that we had ourselves removed from the list a while back. We haven't fostered in almost a year." At that, Peter's heart jumped in his chest. No. Absolutely not.

"Elizabeth, give me the phone," he held his hand out. She met his eyes but ignored him.

"So this is really his last chance before the group home?" She paused again, listening intently. "One second and I'll let you talk to my husband."

She covered the mouthpiece to the phone but held it out of Peter's reaching grasp.

"Peter, listen."

"No. How do they still have our number?"

"I don't know, Peter. But I think it's about time we moved on. You know how quiet it is around here when you're gone."

"Exactly. When I'm _gone_. I'm not about to leave you here alone with one of these kids again!"

"Please, hon. I want to do this. He doesn't have anywhere else to go." She gazed at him with her big blue eyes and Peter couldn't help but feel himself relenting. "I need to get over this. Do it for me?" Trust Elizabeth to say the only thing in the world that could change his mind.

"Fine," Peter sighed in exasperation. "Give me the phone."

Peter hastily corrected the woman when she referred to him as 'Mr.' Burke. Let it be known that he was an agent of the FBI, damnit, and no funny business was going to happen in his home. He almost hung up when the social worker mentioned the kid was a thief, but one look at Elizabeth's pleading face had him gritting his teeth and agreeing. He would keep a close eye on him, that was for sure.

When they were first married, Peter and Elizabeth agreed that they wanted a big family but as the years went on with no children, their goals changed and they were content with just each other. Their careers were both time consuming and fulfilling, but Elizabeth wished more and more for company on the long days she worked from home.

They became an emergency placement foster home to help fill the void. It went wonderfully for a few months, Elizabeth doting on every kid that walked through their doors. One night a 17 year old was ushered in with a black eye and split lip, straight from an abusive home situation. Elizabeth fussed over him like any other and set him up in the guest bedroom with a heavy comforter and an ice pack. The next day, after Peter had left for work, she walked in on him dumping their nicest silver into his book bag. Peter found her on the floor hours later, bruised to hell and confused from a blow to the head that had knocked her out.

The boy was found and sent to a juvenile detention facility a few days later, but it shook her up enough to allow Peter to remove them from the program. Elizabeth received two threatening letters in the mail before Peter demanded a restraining order, and they hadn't heard from him since.

They rarely talked about it anymore, but still some nights Elizabeth woke in the night, sweating and scared and Peter would wrap his arms around her and whisper in her ear until she fell back into a peaceful sleep.

That was why Peter couldn't believe he agreed to this so readily. His wife was still clearly suffering from the aftereffects of a traumatic event, and here he was signing them up for it to happen again. If Elizabeth thought this was what she needed to help her heal, then Peter wasn't going to stop her. But he would make sure that she didn't spend even a moment alone with the kid. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Glancing at his watch, Peter stood and stretched, reaching down a hand to pull Elizabeth to her feet as well.

"You sure you're ready for this, El?"

His wife gave him a shaky smile. "I'm sure. I think this is what I need to finally put everything behind me."

Peter studied her. She looked a little shaken but her eyes were sure. "Let's go get the guest room ready, then."

oOo

**Let me know what you guys thought :) In other news, it's been AGES since I've been on this site. I just re-read my old stories and have decided to work on some updates for those as well (even though it's been over a year. yikes). Coming soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, thank you for the response to the first chapter you guys! You all are the best. **

**Just wanted to put some warnings here since I didn't in the first chapter. Also, Neal's family is going to be AU in this...I've only seen the first 2 seasons of white collar so have no idea what Neal's family is actually like...**

**WARNINGS: violence, abuse, maybe some language...none in this chapter but will come later on**

oOo

Peter and Elizabeth worked in silence mostly, putting clean sheets on the guest bed and stocking the bathroom with fresh towels and toiletries. Elizabeth fluffed up the pillows and smoothed down the thick comforter while Peter went and fetched some of his old T-shirts and sweats, putting them in the bottom drawer of the dresser in case the kid needed them. It had been almost a year since the two had done this ritual, preparing their house for a young guest.

Peter found he had missed this time together, but that didn't stop his feelings of wariness and suspicion. The kid was sixteen, a petty criminal, and fresh off the streets. Almost the same profile as Robert, the boy who had destroyed his beautiful wife's naturally trusting disposition. If he had to scare some sense into this kid, he would.

The sound of the doorbell ringing pulled the couple from their separate thoughts.

"You sure you're ready for this, Hon?"

"I'm sure. Come on," his wife smiled, but Peter could tell it was shaky and forced. They came down the stairs hand in hand, ordering Satchmo to sit before pulling open the door.

They were met with the sight of a frazzled looking woman, a huge bag over her shoulder with papers spilling out every which way.

"You must be the Burkes! I'm Martha Billings, Neal's social worker. We spoke on the phone. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this." She stepped inside, closing the door behind her and shutting out the frigid air. She dug around in her bag before pulling out a small stack of papers.

"It's our pleasure," Elizabeth responded. Peter could tell her smile was becoming more genuine.

"You don't know how hard it is to find people willing to foster the older teens these days, and the storm has made everything extra crazy. I left Neal in the car for a moment so I could talk to you about him and go over these forms with you," she gestured to the stack in her hands as the trio made their way into the kitchen. Elizabeth busied herself making a warm cup of tea for the social worker while Peter sat down with her at the kitchen table.

"Since you guys haven't done this in a while, you just have to renew all these agreements," she slid the stack of papers over to Peter, who thumbed through them and signed where necessary. "They're basically just saying you promise to provide Neal with proper food, clothes and shelter. You also can't leave the state with Neal without our direct permission. As you know, the agency retains official guardianship so if there are any emergencies, medical or otherwise, I need to be notified immediately."

"Alright," Peter nodded. His eyes quickly skimmed each page.

Elizabeth joined the two at the table, sliding the steaming mug of tea across to Martha. "Oh, thank you," Martha said, "this is just what I need. I've got to go back by the office and finish up a few things after this so I could use the energy. Now for the other reason I left Neal in the car...I wanted to talk with you about him for a minute. Neal is...different."

"Different? What do you mean?" Peter asked, suspicious.

"Oh, he's a good kid, don't get me wrong," Martha hurriedly corrected herself. "Polite as he can be, it's actually kind of eery for a teenager," she chuckled. "But, well, to be honest...he's a bit of an escape artist."

"A what? He's sixteen!" Peter exclaimed.

"I know, it is unusual," Martha began to explain. "Neal first became my client almost two years ago. His dad was arrested on drug charges, sentenced to three years, still no word on where the mother is. It was clear from the beginning that Neal wasn't keen on the system. He bolted from no less than seven placements before he was moved to a group home that was supposed to have the tightest security available. Neal was there for only a couple of weeks before he disappeared. I haven't seen him in six months until tonight," she confessed.

"Wow," El responded.

"What would a sixteen year old be doing on the streets for six months? Surely nothing legal."

"No evidence of anything besides the pick pocketing tonight," Martha shrugged. "I have my suspicions though. Neal is too clever for his own good."

"So why are you telling us all of this?" Elizabeth asked.

"I just wanted you to be aware, and to keep a close eye on him. If I had a few days to search for a placement before he disappears again, I think I could find somewhere he would be inclined to stay, or maybe even some extended family. I thought with Peter being an FBI Agent, you guys have a shot at keeping him here. I really do want the best for Neal."

Elizabeth nodded in understanding, but Peter's eyes were still hard and full of distrust. "I don't know if you have access to our file, but we had a bad experience fostering in the past," Peter said. "A kid very similar to Neal, it sounds like. A criminal father, absent mother and starting down his own road of illegal activity. What are the chances that this kid is violent?"

Peter knew he sounded like a jerk, ignoring the boy's less than perfect past, but his priority was his family, and he had to make sure they were safe.

"I understand your concerns, but you have nothing to worry about. Neal is totally harmless. He may run, sure, but he would never do anything to hurt you or your wife. I can promise you that."

Peter wasn't totally satisfied, but it was the best he could hope for under the circumstances.

"I better go get him. I don't want him getting impatient and taking off before he even gets inside."

oOo

Neal was dozing with his head against the window by the time they pulled into the driveway of a well kept town house. He jerked awake when the car stopped, jarring his ribs, and he had to bite his lip to hold in a hiss of discomfort.

"I'm gonna run inside and talk to the Burkes for a minute. I'll leave the car running. You stay right here, okay Neal? I'll be right back."

"Okay," Neal nodded, resting his forehead once again on the cool glass. He hadn't realized how tired he was. He couldn't remember the last time he slept a full night through, and it had been even longer since he enjoyed the comforts of a warm bed. He watched as Miss Martha rang the doorbell and was welcomed inside. Neal caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman, smiling kindly, her hand clutching that of a serious looking man. A yellow lab was next to them, tail thumping in excitement at the newcomer.

Closing his eyes, Neal found his mind wandering to how he ended up here in the first place. It was too risky for him to attempt a con of any magnitude right now, as he was trying to stay under the radar. He knew the second he contacted anyone about setting something up then _he_ would find him and he would be in real trouble. So he had to resort to pick pocketing, sometimes grabbing a handful of bills from an especially full tip jar. He moved around every day, curling up in a different alley or warehouse each night.

It was his own fault he had been caught; he was getting careless in his desperation. His hands weren't as smooth when they were shaky from lack of food, and the well to do businessman had grabbed his wrist as he pulled it out of his pocket. As luck would have it, the man had a fiery temper and shoved Neal down, landing a few well aimed kicks to his abdomen before hauling him back up and to find an officer.

Word would get out soon enough that he was back in the system so he would need to run, and fast. This was probably the most dangerous place he could be right now, but he couldn't deny himself a good night's rest and hopefully a full meal when it was right in front of him. If only Mozzie would come back they could devise some sort of plan.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a rapping on the window. Neal quickly turned off the car and grabbed his bag, joining Miss Martha in the freezing weather. She walked him to the front door that was still standing open and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. Neal put on his most charming smile for the man and woman in the entryway.

"You're all set, Neal. I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything. Probably Monday or Tuesday of next week."

"Sure, thanks," Neal replied, even though he knew he would be long gone by then.

"Be good for the Burkes okay? And Peter and Elizabeth, thank you again," she smiled at them. "Don't hesitate to call me if you have any questions."

"We will. Thank you Martha," Elizabeth replied, smiling warmly at her.

"No problem. Goodnight guys," she waved over her shoulder, already pulling out her cell phone to check in on another of her clients. The door closed behind her and Neal turned to face the Burkes, beaming when he caught sight of the yellow labrador coming to greet him.

"Hey, boy! What's your name, huh?" He reached down and scratched vigorously behind the animal's ears, its tail thumping on the ground.

"That's Satchmo," Mrs. Burke responded.

"Hey, Satchmo," Neal continued petting the dog but looked up at the Burkes. "I'm Neal, you must be Peter and Elizabeth."

"Mr. and Mrs. Burke to you," the man, Peter, cut in.

"Of course."

"Come sit down with us. We want to go over a few house rules before we call it a night." Peter led him into a comfortable looking living room. There was a bowl of half eaten popcorn on the coffee table and Neal eyed it longingly but ignored it in favor of plopping into an arm chair. Best to appease them as much as possible until they went to bed, then he could raid the kitchen and medicine cabinet to his hearts content.


End file.
